Manhattan Serenade
by Izabella G. D
Summary: When Hiram Berry, Don of the mafia, requested Quinn to protect his daughter from a stalker, she thought it'd be an easy job. However, she didn't expect Rachel Berry to be extremely attractive with expressive eyes, full pink lips, silk waves of brown hair, luscious body and a fascinating mind. Now she's screwed, because she fell in love with the untouchable princess of the mob.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee.

**A/N: **Hello there, guys! So, I'm back with this new story and I really hope you enjoy it. It's rated M for strong language, violence and sex scenes in the future chapters.

A very special thank you to my beta harleysantana23. You're amazing!

Have a nice reading!

* * *

**Manhattan Serenade**

_We made it without touching the handlebars_

_And I gave you my love_

_To the melody of the music, the madness_

_That made our Manhattan serenade_

**Chapter One**

Quinn nursed a glass of white wine and grimaced. It was not that the liquid disgusted her. Oh, not at all.

It was just that some people wouldn't shut the _fuck_ up.

"It's funny, you know, that you chose to drink wine. I mean, don't your people usually go for whiskey or something?" Tom, the nettlesome barman commented chuckling. "Anyway, you don't even look like them. You could be a model for all I know." He snorted inelegantly. Quinn wanted to shove the glass up his nose, but instead, she smiled wryly.

"Yes, well, looks can be deceiving." She said while distractedly playing with the golden cross around her neck, trying to calm her temper with the motion. The oblivious man huffed; his dull blue eyes roaming over her figure.

Shaggy blonde hair, intense hazel eyes partially hidden by aviators, leather jacket and ripped well-fit jeans. He caught a glimpse of silver glimmering on her waist and rubbed his neck in confusion. "Do you even know how to manage that, darling? This babe over there looks difficult to handle."

The young woman let out a small laugh and caught the gun, a brand new Glock 19 with a silencer. With one smooth movement, she unlocked the trigger and shot straight at a bottle, satisfied when the man gulped in fear as the bullet passed centimeters away from his ear.

"I know my moves." Quinn said lowly putting the gun back on her pocket. The only two men who were at the bar sharing a table looked at her with widened eyes and quickly adverted them when the blonde lifted an intimidating eyebrow at their direction.

Cowards.

"Do you mind serving me another glass?" She asked Tom, who could only nod. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of the water, too stunned to utter a sentence. Quinn hummed in content, the sudden taciturn atmosphere pleasing her.

Truth to be told, Quinn was rather annoyed that she had to head into that crappy bar located in a hidden corner of Manhattan at nine in the morning. But she had received a riddled message from one Hiram Berry the night before requesting a meeting and she couldn't deny it. He was the head of the mob, after all. And the blonde would actually be lying if she said she wasn't curious about the arrangement.

Hiram the Roadkill, as he was known around the streets of Manhattan was not a man for jokes. Anyone with enough sense of self-preservation trembled at the mere mention of the Don of the mafia. He was fifty-five years old and carried more than two hundred deaths under his belt. The circumstances in which the bodies were found scared even the most hardened detective. Hiram liked to think he was a practical guy and if you asked him with at least a little bit of respect he'd tell you he didn't consider himself a bad person. He didn't kill innocent people, he actually treasured them. On the other hand, the scum of the earth… Well, that was another story.

"I don't tolerate motherfuckers. Those rapists and violent douchebags who like to think a woman must be beaten? You better tell them to don't cross my way." He always said. It was one of his many philosophies.

Quinn actually respected that. She lived in an abusive environment when she was a kid and watched her father beat her mother everyday in his drunken stupor. She despised that kind of behavior. So when The Roadkill recruited her for his 'team' three years before when she was just twenty one, she didn't think twice. And unlike her peers, she did not fear him.

Partly because she admired his 'fuck the world' attitude…

And partly because she didn't possess thoughts of self-preservation to begin with.

As she took the last sip of her wine — trying to ignore the fact that it was too damn early to be drinking — she caught a glimpse of Hiram entering the pub; all 5'9 of him with dark skin being guarded by two hard-hitting men. She took her sun glasses off, stood up and followed the mobster when he addressed to her.

"Good luck in there, darling." Quinn heard Tom shout behind her. She rolled her eyes. What an irritating fella.

The three men stopped abruptly in a hidden corner and Quinn recognized it as The Boss' office. They got in and she sat down in chair right in the front of Hiram's.

"Good to see you, Fabray." He finally said. His voice was steady and rough; his eyes analytic while his fingers busied themselves lightening a cigarette.

"Likewise, Sir." Quinn replied. "May I inquire why you requested to see me?"

Hiram's thunderous laugh reverberated through the room and the long puff of smoke escaping from his mouth tickled Quinn's nose. "No need for fucking formalities, Fabray. Chill out, kid!"

Quinn snorted. "Right. Yeah, sorry. Force of habit." She mumbled. Living with Russell and Judy Fabray did that to a person. "Anyway, you have a job for me?"

The Roadkill nodded. "Yeah, I do. And it's a very important one." He informed her. Quinn instantly straightened up in her chair; her heart beating faster in expectation.

"Let's hear it, Boss."

Hiram took another drag from his cigarette before he spoke: "I gotta say; you're good on the business, Fabray." He stated. "It's impressive, really, considering your young age. I have a long line of older and much more experienced men and women who would jump right into action if I ordered them, but yet, I chose you. I need precision and you can give me that."

Quinn nodded, trying not to smile at the recognition of her job. It'd be considered fragility and she didn't want to screw things up. "I appreciate your compliments, Sir." She said. "What can I do for you?"

"Not for me exactly," Hiram began. "My daughter Rachel has become Broadway's sweetheart. She just got the main role in a famous play and suddenly, this whole godamned town decided to stalk her." He frowned. "It wouldn't be too much of a problem if a son of a bitch hadn't decided to send threatening letters for her."

"I see." Quinn acknowledged. "Is there anything else this fucker has been doing?"

"Rachel is trying to dismiss me, but she let it slip last night that she saw a shadow by her window the other day." He growled punching the table. Quinn didn't flinch; she was already calculating strategies before Hiram even told her what to do. "I'll get straight to the point, Fabray: I want you to watch my babygirl. Be by her side at all times and protect her. Camp at her house or whatever, I don't care. And when you find this motherfucker, I want you to deal with him, alright? Make it slow and painful; teach him not to mess with my princess ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Quinn replied.

"Good." Hiram said. "There's a compartment of guns in my office at your disposal. Do you need any money?"

"No, I've got it covered." Quinn replied. "Where can I find your daughter?"

"She's probably rehearsing now," he said. "Just wait for a couple of hours and then go get her at this address." He gave her a small piece of paper with instructions along with a photo. "This is my baby, just in case you've never seen her." The man added with a proud smile on his face. She took a look at the picture and found an attractive brunette smiling brightly at the camera. Quinn bit her lip to refrain from showing an appreciative face in the front of her boss. The woman was gorgeous.

"Alright. I won't disappoint you, Sir." She said.

"I know you won't." Hiram grumbled; his attention back to his cigarette. "Run along now, Fabray. We'll keep in touch."

Quinn nodded shortly, making sure to transmit certainty at the simple gesture. When Hiram mirrored the movement, she knew she'd done right. The blonde passed by the two men guarding the door and completely ignored Tom's inquires about what had happened in the room before finding herself welcoming the chaotic streets of New York again.

She still had two hours or so to spare until she had to head to Broadway, so she decided to make a pit stop at home to pack a bag of clothes and necessities, since it was obvious that she'd have to stay at the Berry girl's house for a while.

Quinn slid her sun glasses down her nose again and twirled her car keys while she hummed the verse of her favorite song. Reaching her brand new silver Spyder 918, she got into the front seat and smiled upon hearing the potent gears roaring to life. That's one of the things she loved the most about being in the mob: the connections. She knew a good bunch of people who worked at the automotive industry and since money was never a problem, they were more than happy to offer her new vehicles before they even got in the market. She really didn't complain since cars were one of her passions.

Quinn pushed the gas and sped through the busy traffic. She drove all the way towards her apartment in the East Village and parked the car neatly in the front of the building. She greeted Nick, the janitor with a slight wave and rode the elevator, right up onto the second to last floor.

When she opened the door, she was met with panties hanging on the dinner table, a leather pair of pants tossed carelessly on the sofa and a t-shirt covering the lamp. She huffed and kicked the silver high heel sandal she found in the corridor leading to her roommate's bedroom.

Sometimes Quinn wondered why she had even agreed to share an apartment with Santana Lopez in the first place.

She opened the door loudly, not caring one bit about the fact that her best friend was fast asleep. She untied the curtains and blasted the stereo system on.

Santana hoisted out of the bed and Quinn laughed.

"Shit, Fabray, I fucking told you to don't mess with me while I sleep!" Santana growled tossing a pillow at Quinn. The blonde easily blocked it and laughed.

"I know. But when is it that I ever listen to you?" She teased.

"Bitch." Santana grumbled. "It's only fucking eleven in the morning, Q. No one should be up this early. Especially those who were on a fucking mission until sun rise."

"Yeah, whatever," Quinn dismissed her. "Anyway, I just stopped by to tell you that I'll be away for a while."

That piece of information got the brunette's curiosity and she sat on the bed fully alert and completely naked. Quinn rolled her eyes. "Don't you ever sleep with clothes on?"

Santana merely lifted an eyebrow. "What's the matter, Fabray? You should feel lucky as hell to be able to look upon a rocking hot body like mine."

"Sure." Quinn deadpanned.

"Always a prude, aren't you, Quinnie?"

"Fuck you, Santana." Quinn huffed.

"You wish." The woman winkled. "Alright, enough of this. Spill out why you won't be sleeping here? Have you finally found yourself a girl who won't be annoyed as hell by you recklessness?"

"Shut up, Santana," Quinn mumbled. "The Boss has given me a mission."

Her friend straightened up immediately. She could be a tease, but she really treated her job in the mob seriously. "Well, let's hear it."

"Someone's been threatening his daughter. He wants me to protect her while I search for the motherfucker."

Santana nodded for a while, absorbing what Quinn had just told her. And then she laughed, throwing her head back in pure joy. "Ohh, that's priceless. Quinnie will be a bodyguard for a diva! I can already hear Whitney Houston in the background."

Quinn flushed beet red. "You're ridiculous, Lopez." She spat. "She's the boss' daughter and this is just another job. So quit it."

The Latina wiped the tears out of her eyes, still chuckling. "It'll be a hell of a nice job. The Berry girl is hot. Lucky you."

Quinn lifted an eyebrow. "How is it that you know she's hot? You've never seen her."

"As a matter of fact, I have." Santana stated. "I dated a girl who worked on Broadway's backstage and she took me out once to watch some play I don't really remember what's called. Berry was there and I assure you: she's hot."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't change the fact that she's the boss' daughter." Quinn reasoned.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Ok, lemme break the news to you, Fabray," the brunette said sitting Indian style in bed. "She's a tiny creature with a fucking powerful voice. So fucking sexy, if I can say so myself. You gotta be careful to don't wake the neighbors up while you two do the wanky."

"Santana!" Quinn reprehended her.

"What?" The woman said winkling innocently. "I know you like it when your girls get wild and loud."

"I'm not like you, Lopez; I don't hit on every girl I meet." Quinn said sternly. Santana burst into laugh once again.

"Yeah, sure, then tell that to Emily, Andrea, Mandy, Sara, Meg, Jenny, Carmen, Jamie, Eve, Alice and – Hey! Wait up, Fabray; I haven't finished with the list yet!" Santana said as she followed — still naked — a pissed off Quinn who was marching towards her own bedroom.

"Shut the fuck up, Lopez," Quinn grumbled catching a bag and filling it with her clothes. "Just shut up. I'm not going to fall in love with Rachel Berry, alright? I'll do my job, get some more respect from the boss and that's it."

"Ok, sure, I got it. Jesus, chill out, blondie." Santana said. "Yeah, just go do whatever."

She observed as Quinn closed her bag, unlocked a drawer and got a metallic briefcase. She nodded approvingly when the blonde opened it revealing an automatic pistol with a full load of bullets. "Good choice, you can never go wrong with that."

Quinn grinned. "This one is my favorite. It's fast and clean." She said putting it along with her belongings. She checked her clock and frowned. "I have to go now. The Berry girl must be on her way out from her rehearsal. We'll keep in touch, alright? Try not to bring a different girl each night while I'm away. Last time it happened, Mrs. Webber almost had a heart attack when she saw you and your girl making out on the hallway."

Santana grinned smugly. "That was a good fuck. But yeah, whatever. I'll try not to."

Quinn nodded and shouldered her bag. "Ok, bye, Santana. And go take a shower, for goodness sake!"

Santana snorted as she entered the bathroom, closing its door before shouting: "See ya later, Quinnleone! Keep your head on track. Don't fall in love with the mobster's daughter!"

Quinn huffed and shook her head. Rachel Berry might be extremely attractive with those expressive chocolate eyes, full pink lips, silk waves of long brown hair and luscious body, but she wasn't reckless to the point of getting involved with Hiram Berry's daughter. Santana was crazy.

"Pff… Me falling in love with the diva," The blonde mumbled getting out the door and making her way towards her car. "Yeah, right…"

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**A/N2: **I forgot to mention that The Family really influenced me to write this story. I couldn't help it; Dianna looked so damn sexy in that movie!

Quinn and Rachel will meet in the next chapter, so get ready!

Now, please, review and let me know what you think about the story. It'll motivate me to keep writing even faster.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee.

**A/N:** OMG, guys, you're amazing! I'm so happy you enjoyed the first chapter! Thank you so much for all the reviews, alerts and favorites! I hope you enjoy the second chapter as well. As promised, there's lots of Faberry.

A very special thank you to my beta harleysantana23. You're awesome!

Have a nice reading!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

She was about to lose her temper.

The orchestra wasn't playing well, her director's mind was lost somewhere in La La land, that bothersome wig was falling over her eyes every two minutes and her co-star wasn't paying attention to her cues because she kept battling flirting eyelashes at some intern.

Rachel really didn't have time for that.

"Excuse me," she huffed taking the offending artificial hair out of her head and throwing it at a corner. "I don't know about you, but I really want to finish this rehearsal sometime this century."

Jesse St. James sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Calm down, Rachel. Everything is going well. We're already a huge success, what more do you want?"

The girl scoffed loudly, which attracted the attention of all the crew. Some of them gulped. They knew a diva rant was about to start.

"I'd hardly consider this play to be going remarkably well. We're performing a revival of Chicago. The critics gave us nice reviews, yes, but if we keep this mess up, I'm certain this play will close before we get to the second act." She grumpily said holding her chin up. "No offense, Jesse, but I find your direction to be lacking energy and enthusiasm lately. You haven't even noticed that your Roxy Hart over there just missed her cue. _I_ don't want to take part of a _disaster_!"

"I didn't miss my cue." Cassandra July scoffed. "I was just…practicing facial expressions." She winked at the intern and pointed an accusatory finger at Rachel. "Your Velma Kelly is nothing without my Roxy Hart, so chill out, Berry."

Rachel snorted. "Oh, really? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm in the front line to receive a Tony. As far as I know, you're only a YouTube sensation for all the wrong reasons."

Cassandra's eyes glistened dangerously as she stepped forward and looked down at the brunette. "You're the one to talk," The blonde said lowly. "At least I'm not in a torrid relationship with the director."

Rachel gasped. "Why, you -"

"Ladies, calm down, please!" Jesse requested shielding Rachel's body from her rival. "This discussion won't take us anywhere. Stop being childish, alright?"

"Sure thing, pretty boy." Cassandra said shrugging. "Just keep your girlfriend out of my way."

"How dare you!" Rachel screeched lunging forward again. Jesse grabbed hold of her and whimpered when her elbow hit his rib.

"Ok, I think we should wrap the day." He said puffing. "Get out of here, all of you."

"Oh, thank God." Cassandra said. She beckoned to her young intern "friend" on her way to the backstage. "C'mon, dear, I could use some help with this costume."

Rachel watched the crew leave and grumbled in frustration. Why did she have to work with unprofessional people? "This is completely unacceptable." She practically yelled as she shoved Jesse's arms away from her. "Even a school production is more organized than this one. I can't believe we've gotten to this point. And you," She fumingly said pointing an accusatory finger at Jesse. "You are an asshole for not denying July's absurd accusations. You know very well that we're _not_ together, Jesse!"

The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know our relationship is complicated, Rachel."

"What relationship, Jesse?" She inquired crossing her arms. "We used to have one, until you though it was a good idea to cheat on me."

"It was a mistake, ok? I already told you I regret it." He pouted.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, I don't believe you."

He smiled charmingly and tried to bring their bodies together again. "Rachel-"

"No!" She bellowed pushing him away. "No, ok? You had your chance and you ruined it. Just leave me alone, Jesse."

The man rubbed his face in defeat and nodded. "Alright. I'll leave. But just for now. It's not over for us yet, Rach, I can feel it." He assured. When Rachel advert her glance, he dragged his feet on the linoleum floor and left with his head bowed.

The brunette let out a breath of relief and headed to her dressing-room to change. She smiled at some of her peers on her way and promised Tina, one of her best friends, that she'd call her to hang out later in the week. With all the pressure she had been enduring with the play, not to mention the letters she'd been receiving from a crazy stalker, she really deserved to have fun. Maybe she'd even have some drinks to forget the whole thing.

Rachel took off her makeup, changed into a flowery summer dress and dialed a familiar number. The answer was almost immediate.

"Rachel Barbra Berry, where on earth have you been? I've been trying to reach you since yesterday!" Kurt Hummel complained.

Rachel sighed and held onto her bag. "I know, Kurt. It's just… My life is such a mess at the moment. I took yesterday off for myself. I needed to think."

"It's alright, sweetie, I understand," Kurt replied, his tone softening. "I was just worried about you, that's all. And you can't blame me, really, with this stalker following you around in the shadows."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't you start as well, Kurt. You're sounding like my father. I'll be fine."

"You're one headstrong diva, did you know that?" The man complained.

"It's one of my many redeeming qualities." Rachel teased. "Anyway, I also called you to ask for a ride home. My car broke down this morning and I'm not thrilled about the idea of stepping into a crowded subway or fighting for a cab."

"I'm sorry, Rach, but I can't pick you up today." He said apologetically. "My boss is driving us crazy with the new winter collection and she told me that if I don't convince the Prada's executives to accept a partnership with us, she'll kick my ass."

Rachel giggled at his choice of words and he scoffed. "You think I'm joking, huh? Well, she told me worse, but I'll keep it PG-13 giving the time."

"That's fine, Kurt. I guess I'll just wrestle with an ill-mannered business man for a cab then." She chuckled. "I'll talk to you later, alright? Maybe we can grab some drinks with Tina tomorrow."

"Sure thing!" He chirped. "Later, Rach."

"Bye, Kurt." She tossed her phone carelessly in her purse and sighed tiredly. "C'mon now, Rachel Berry," She mumbled walking down the corridor towards the exit. "If you can mesmerize a full audience with your voice, then you surely can get a cab pronto."

She was calculating strategies to get a free car – like batting her long eyelashes and pouting charmingly – when her body collided against something firm and warm. She stumbled back a little bit and gasped. "Don't people watch where they're going?"

There was an amused laugh and then: "Well, I do. You, on the other hand, seem to be pretty distracted at the moment."

The voice was soft, slightly husked and belonged to a woman. Rachel looked up and blinked in awe at the sight of shining hazel eyes. The unknown blonde girl in the front of her was very beautiful.

"Cat got your tongue?" The stranger teased lifting an eyebrow.

Rachel snapped out of her inner wonder and narrowed her eyes. "How rude!" She yelped. "And hey, you certainly are not from the crew and I'd know it because I'm the star of this play. So you're the wrong one for sneaking into the backstage and bumping into me!" Rachel said in a breath. "Who are you? Are you a fan? A journalist perhaps? Oh my God, you're not a maniac, are you?" The brunette inquired.

Oh what a day…

Quinn frowned and shook her head, trying to process everything the singer had said. Her boss should have warned her that his daughter was so suspicious. When she saw a brusque movement from the diva, she immediately sprung into action. "What are you doing?"

Rachel fished a small bottle from her purse and pointed it at the blonde. "Don't step any closer! I have a pepper spray and I'm not afraid to use it!"

Quinn snorted and caught the object with one smooth movement. Rachel puffed. "Hey!"

"I'm not any of those things you said," Quinn began. "I'm Quinn Fabray. Your father sent me here."

Rachel scowled confused. "What?"

"Your father sent me." Quinn repeated. "He said you were being threatened and ordered me to deal with whoever it is."

Rachel ran a hand through her hair and started pacing in circles muttering under her breath. Quinn bit her lip and shifted her glance to the wall, finding Rachel's flowing dress and voluptuous waves of hair too distracting. And God, her legs should be illegal.

"You ok in there?" Quinn asked. She grimaced when her voice came out an octave lower and cleared her throat. "Rachel?"

The brunette stopped and threw her hands in the air in frustration. "I can't believe papa did this to me!" She shouted exasperatedly. "I told him those letters meant nothing, but, oh, no, of course he'd ignore me and send a bodyguard."

Quinn gritted her teeth. "I'm not a bodyguard. I'll just deal with whoever has been threatening you, that's all."

Rachel laughed dryly. "I don't need protection! Listen, Quinn, you can go back to papa's office and tell him that I dismissed you." The diva said looking up at the blonde with confidence. "And please, do me another favor and tell him we'll have a serious conversation once I go visit him at home. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm on my way out."

The singer nodded at the taller woman in acknowledgement and made her way out of the backstage right into the theater door. She marched with purpose under the sunny weather, confident that Quinn had obeyed her. She was accustomed with dealing with her father's 'employees', they didn't need much persuasion to grant her wishes. But apparently, Quinn Fabray wasn't like her colleagues.

She was following her, hot on her wheels.

What a stubborn, rebel woman.

"I told you to leave." Rachel huffed still moving forward.

"I know." Quinn shrugged.

"_Quinn_," Rachel said sternly. "Do as I told you."

"I'm not your dog, Berry." The blonde said.

"I gave you a message to deliver my father."

"I'm not your messenger either." Quinn replied petulantly. "If you want to talk to him, you can use your phone."

Rachel stilled her steps hastily and poked Quinn's shoulder. "Stop following me!"

Quinn just smirked, repelling the woman's fingers away from her. "No."

"I'm serious, Quinn!" Rachel screeched, stomping her feet in a small tantrum. "If you don't stop following me, I'll shout so loud it'll attract a crowd. I suggest you to step out right in this second!"

"No."

"Leave. Now."

"No."

"Is that the only word you can say?"

Quinn smiled mischievously. "No."

"You're so infuriating!"

"Hmm, yeah." Quinn hummed fishing her aviators from her light jacket and sliding it up her nose. "Whatever. I'm just doing my job."

Rachel gaped at her and blushed at the casual attitude the blonde was sporting. But when Quinn smirked knowingly, she crossed her arms grouchily. "It doesn't mean I need to accept it." She complained.

"Just let me drive you home, ok? Once you get there you can call your father. Let's just get out of here." Quinn suggested. The word drive brightened Rachel's mood and she beamed a little.

"Well I do need a ride," She sing sang. "Where is your car? Do you happen to have a stereo system?"

Quinn smiled; relieved that they were making some progress. She gently rested a hand on the girl's bare shoulder, motioning her towards the direction of her parked car. She felt a pleasant sparkle when their skin met, but she quickly dismissed it. She was on a mission and Rachel was the boss daughter.

Damn Santana and her perverted thoughts.

"I do have a stereo system," Quinn replied. "It'd be a sin if I didn't have one, really."

Rachel chirped. At least the woman had musical taste. "Well, that's great! So, where is it? Are we far?"

"Actually, no." Quinn said coming into a stop and showing Rachel the 918 Spyder. "Here it is."

She expected that Rachel would grin happily at the sight of the car and hop in, but what actually greeted her was a deep frown. "I am not getting in that monster of a car," Rachel said with finality. "I refuse to."

"And why the hell not?" Quinn demanded.

"This car is a killer! It's like those we see in the movies; it just can't go smooth. Once you get your foot on the gas it immediately goes a thousand miles per hour and pardon me for not wanting to have a heart attack at my young age."

Quinn snorted. "You're overreacting, Berry. The reality is so much different from the movies. Plus, I'm a skilled driver. Just get in it." She said unlocking the doors.

"I'm not getting in it!" Rachel stomped. "I'd rather get a cab."

"Just get into the car already, Berry." Quinn sighed. "We're losing time here. It's a damn hot day and I don't know about you, but I'd like to take a nice refreshing shower and get something to eat. C'mon now."

"No!" Rachel complained.

"Berry," Quinn whined. "C'mon. _Please_, get into the damn car."

"I told you I refuse to."

Quinn growled in frustration, but she managed to keep her cool. "Look, I promise you I'll drive carefully. If I don't, well, then you can report me to your father and request him to put me in the bottom line of the mob, ok? How does that sound?"

She anxiously waited as Rachel considered her proposition; tapping her right foot in expectation. "Alright." The brunette finally said. "But! You have to cross your fingers and swear to it."

Quinn rolled her eyes and did what she was told, grateful that Santana wasn't there to witness it. "Let's go already."

Rachel sat in the passenger sit and kept an eagle eye at Quinn, who kept her word and drove like a turtle. They didn't talk and after a few minutes of an uncomfortable atmosphere, Rachel turned the radio on and started singing along with Alicia Keys.

Quinn smiled as her heart fluttered with warmth and when she caught Rachel's smug smile from the corner of her eyes, it was her turn to blush profusely.

~;~

The truce between them didn't last much.

When they got into Rachel's large flat in the Upper East Side, the singer immediately tried to contact her father without success. Then, she decided to make dinner for both of them to kill the time and huffed when Quinn complained about the lack of bacon.

By the time Hiram finally picked up his phone, it was already dark outside, but not even the beautiful sight of her favorite city shining through the window cheered Rachel up after the news she heard.

"Rachel, pumpkin," Hiram cooed. "Please, don't be angry at your papa, ok? I just want to protect you."

"But the point is that I don't need protection, papa!" Rachel exclaimed. "I'm sure it's just a fan trying to get attention, nothing more. Please, tell Quinn her services are not needed."

"Honey," The Roadkill sighed. "You know I can't do this. I made this mistake in the past and you know what the result was. I can't lose you as well, princess."

Rachel sighed heavily. "I know, papa. But I still don't agree with it. I don't need a bodyguard. _Please_."

"Let Fabray do her job. She's very good in the business. She'll keep you safe and catch the motherfucker in no time."

"Language, papa." Rachel distractedly said watching Quinn studying her playbill collections in the living room with interest. "It's just that… She's so…" She trailed off trying to find the most fitting words. Irritating. Stubborn. Mysterious. Rebel. Beautiful.

"So what, honey?"

Rachel sighed. "She so annoyingly headstrong. Not to mention petulant."

The Roadkill laughed. "I know. And that's why I chose her. Among other things, of course. Like precision and agility." He admitted. "I knew your personalities would collide. You challenge each other."

The brunette pouted. "Well, I hate it."

"I'm sorry, pumpkin." He genuinely said. "Listen, I need to deal with a matter now, but I'll call you tomorrow, ok? Sleep well, babygirl. I love you."

"Love you too." Rachel mumbled turning off her phone.

"Bad news?"

Rachel jumped startled when Quinn sneaked up behind her and husked into her ear. She puffed in anger and shot a dangerous glare at the blonde who didn't even flinch.

"Don't scare me like that!" She reprehended the amused woman. "And to answer your question, yes, I had bad news. Apparently, I'll have to endure you for a few weeks."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you'll get over it."

"You are so annoying, did you know that?" Rachel sneered.

"I've been told it once or twice." Quinn shrugged. "And since I'm not leaving, where am I going to sleep?"

"Wait here." Rachel said wryly. She rummaged through her room and came back two minutes later with a resigned expression.

"Here," The brunette grumbled pushing two pillows and a blanket into Quinn's arms, nearly hitting her in the nose.

"What the hell…?" Quinn murmured.

"You want to watch over the house? Fine! You'll do it better on the couch." Rachel said in defiance. The sofa was so uncomfortable that she was sure Quinn would be gone by the next day. "I'm certain you'll have the night of your life here. Have pleasant dreams, Quinn." She offered the blonde a sweet smile and left. Quinn watched her go in astonishment.

"And how exactly is sleeping in this damn torture device going to help me watch the house?!"

Her answer was the loud bang of a door closing followed by impish giggles.

That wicked little diva.

"Great," Quinn grumbled throwing the pillows over the hard surface of the couch. "Just great." She hissed when her back popped and her feet didn't fit in the tiny cover she had received. "Damn you, Rachel Berry."

She fell asleep shortly after, trying to ignore the fact that the soft smell of lavender from the diva's perfume imprinted on the pillow pleased her senses immensely.

* * *

**A/N2:** Soo, did you guys like it? Please review and let me know what you think! Your messages really motivate me!


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